


Lonely Night

by fuzzybatbutts



Series: Lessons To Be Learned [3]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood, Blood Kink, Broken Bones, Bruises, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Gore, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Other, Past Sexual Abuse, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Abuse, Sorry Not Sorry, Trauma, Whump, im very tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 18:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18531127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzybatbutts/pseuds/fuzzybatbutts
Summary: Elliot has been recovering slowly from the injuries inflicted during his last run in with Bloodhound. He wishes it had gone differently, and questions what exactly the Hunter wants from him.





	Lonely Night

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE PLEASE READ!!
> 
> So my beta and I have a discord now!! It's specifically for fans of apex who love dark fiction, so if you like this series it'll be right up your alley!! It was created since I got booted from an apex server for posting noncon so it's to protect us fans who the purity police deem problematic. Nothing is too far and there's specifically a blacklist channel for those of us who love the nastiest of the nasty. :D if the link doesnt cooporate, lemme know and I'll find a way to send it to you ^^  
> https://discord.gg/xNkTyCV
> 
>  
> 
> Whats up it's 2am this isn't as graphic as the last two, but still has mentions of past trauma so reader beware.

“Great. Just fucking great.”

Elliot let out a heavy sigh as he examined his face in the mirror. The shitty LED’s did no favors to assist in covering up the dark bags under his eyes or disguising the deep purple blotches that completely covered the side of his face. They’d started going slightly yellow around the edges now that they were finally healing but they were sore and the swelling around his eye had only recently begun to go down. Several of the blood vessels in his eye had popped painting the sclera a bright red and the doctors had told him they wouldn’t go away for at least another two weeks considering the damage that had been done. His face looked like it had been used as a punching bag by a boxer who’d just found out his wife was cheating on him and felt just as bad too. The stitches in his cheek were itchy and pulled whenever he tried to talk or smile and the scabs seemed to pull his mouth up in a half smile. Even despite the efforts of the doctors his nose was now slightly crooked from his first unfortunate encounter. It was so ugly his boss had refused him coming in for shifts on the grounds he’d probably just scare away the customers as soon as they laid eyes on him. It was hard to charm tips when it was impossible to look at him without wincing. 

He couldn’t blame them really, he did look like shit. He hadn’t left his apartment in days beyond doing a beer run the night after his trip to the hospital and it was beginning to show. Already he looked paler and his eyes washed out, cheeks covered in stubble that made him look less charming and more like a homeless bum who’d be better off on a street corner. He’d lost a bit of weight, pulling the skin a bit tighter across his chest and stomach. His ribs pushed against the skin dotted with the same purple bruises across side. Two had broken completely with hairline fractures along another two. Combined they made breathing an arduous task that sent wave after wave of sharp, stabbing pain into his chest that was only barely numbed by the painkillers they’d sent him home with. They’d been kind enough to give him a bottle of scar cream to dab on his mouth once it healed but he suspected they’d seen the bite on his neck and didn’t want to push the matter. The cream hadn’t even made a dent in the scar tissue and it still sat raised and angry looking every time he’d caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window or the bathroom mirror. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Necklaces and collars rubbed against it and irritated the skin even further if he tried to cover it and cosmetics just made it look like a big lump under his skin. He didn’t know how Bloodhound had managed to do so much damage with just their mouth, but they’d ground their teeth into the wound hard enough he wasn’t entirely surprised. 

_ Bloodhound…. _

The hunter had been on his mind despite efforts to banish it completely. It seemed cancerous, only spreading defiantly when he failed to remove the thoughts from his head. He’d stopped going outside at night at all, too scared he’d turn a corner and find them standing there with that damn bird perched on their arm or a knife clutched in their hands. Crowds should have been safe since they’d cause a commotion if seen in public but the combined breathing of the people sent a chill up his spine as it seemed to mimic the muffled sounds coming from behind the mask. Birds he avoided completely, crow or not he didn’t trust the avian bastards not to tattle on him. Not that it probably mattered much anyway. He knew Bloodhound probably had some sort of eyes on him or at least a way of knowing where he went and when he left the apartment. There was no point in trying to see if he was being followed; he knew he was or at least could be at any given time so being cautious was borderline pointless. For all he knew there were cameras hidden in the corners or in pictures somehow. Elliot didn’t care how crazy it sounded and he knew what paranoia sounded like. 

The not knowing was the worst part. Not knowing when they’d make an appearance or how. Would they drag him into an abandoned building and stick a knife in his ribs? Would they crush his throat behind a dumpster and throw his body away? Cut off bits and pieces and let him rot in some cell in a basement somewhere? Cut holes into him if they grew bored of the two he had? Cut the tendons in his legs so he couldn’t run and kept him chained for when they needed entertainment? 

There hadn’t been a pattern in the first two assaults and Bloodhound wasn’t known for this kind of brutality in the arena so the paranoid thoughts felt slightly unjustified. In fact it was quite the opposite. They were known for laying their casualties down with their gun in hand and their eyes closed in a respectful gesture. They’d never defiled a body or even made a hint they wanted to. Not that anyone could guess what they were thinking. Much to the bane of reporters they’d continued their trend of disappearing after championship wins, least they had. He’d been watching the games while bedridden and the hound still hadn’t made an appearance since their last one where he’d survived on a technicality and they’d come out on top. Gossip columns in magazines were already spreading even more rumors, some more absurd than others. One whispered that they’d been a robot this whole time and their battery had run out, while another claimed they’d located a super secret cult they ran and it was their holy month. That particular article had claimed during this sacred month they sacrificed baby animals and offered technology to their cyborg God as a peace offering. Somehow it wasn’t the most far fetched theory he’d heard about them. 

The truth was far more simple. No one knew anything. Elliot knew that voice and the scar across their mouth but it wasn’t much of a lead and he assumed Bloodhound would be too smart to let themselves be caught. He wasn’t going to find Bloodhound first which crushed any delusion he had about a planned midnight rendezvous with them. He chastised himself for even dreaming of the idea considering how poorly their last meetup had gone. Being fucked against a rock wall was one thing considering he’d begged them to continue and wasn’t as regretful about asking as he should have been. But having Bloodhound force their way into his throat and treat him like some kind of subhuman doll was a different matter altogether. In the ring they’d at least focussed on him and he’d never cum that hard before with any other partner. His hand was easy to fix and he could live with a broken nose. It was completely worth it, he’d decidedly recently at least, since he’d never experienced anything even close to that before. His legs had shook wildly and made standing near impossible without scraping his pants against his overstimulated cock. 

But the time in the alleyway was different. There was something about Bloodhound that had felt different, almost like the air surrounding them had changed. They’d spoken, given him commands and brutally beaten him when he’d refused. It was calculated and they’d threatened to knock out his teeth if he refused and Elliot had no doubts they would have come through on that threat. They’d come there with a goal in mind, and plans for the future from what he could gather from their parting words. Bloodhounds final message still hummed in the air around his ears and always sat in the back of his mind. 

_ “Oh Kærr, I have much to teach you.” _

_ “Do not try and run from me.” _

_ “I will find you wherever you go.” _

_ “You cannot get away from me.”  _

“Much to teach me,” mused Elliot aloud, “What the Hell does that even mean?”

It was a mystery but not one he was sure he wanted to know the answer to. They’d promised they’d find him. What could they teach him? Obedience? Elliot scoffed, he wasn’t some dog to be ordered around. 

_ But they called me pet… and Kærr? What does that mean?  _

Elliot’s head hurt from trying to match the pieces together. He clicked the lights off in the bathroom and grabbed his phone from his dresser. There was no way for him to guess how to spell the word since he couldn’t even guess what language it could be out of the thousands across the planets. His tongue fumbled around the word since it sounded nothing like anything in english but hopefully he could mimic it enough for the translator to pick it up. It took a few tries before it registered, but an automated female voice spoke back to him. “Kærr, an Icelandic word from Earth meaning ‘Much Prized’ or more literally, ‘Dear’.”

A sickening feeling started bubbling deep in his guts and a flush of fear crept up into his chest. First the bite mark, then the incident in the alley, now this? Elliot shuddered, feeling a sense of dread begin to cloud the room. If Bloodhound was really calling him Dear, did that mean some kind of affection? Or was it just another form of possession with a sweeter name? Even if they did mean it as an affectionate pet name how could they have done that to him in the alley? How could they have treated him like some kind of sex toy and then make a promise to find him again regardless of if he wanted them to or not? Thoughts swam in Elliot’s mind too fast for him to think properly. All he knew for certain were the emotions that had followed him in the days since. The disgust. The failure on his part to run or put up any sort of fight, for acting like a coward and just rolling over and accepting it. Shame for enjoying a small part of it and even greater anger towards himself for wishing it had lasted longer and hoping they’d touch him beyond the savage kicks and fingers curled in his hair. He’d sat in the shower until the water ran ice cold the night he got back from the hospital but couldn’t fully distract from the scene replaying over and over in his mind. That kiss that had literally taken his breath away and how he’d almost grabbed them and pulled them back for more. The warmth of their mouth and the smell of pine that clung to their clothes. 

Logically, Elliot knew he should have only been revolted and should try running far away to escape his tormentor, but the logical side wasn’t the one winning the battle. Instead it was a brutal mixture of curiosity and primal hunger. The ferocity that emanated off them and filled up any surrounding space was unlike anything he’d experienced and he wanted more. The curiosity demanded he put aside the fears of bodily harm and try track down the hunter while the hunger whispered that the pain only added to the pleasure and was what made the experience so extraordinary. He’d experimented before in adding small additions of pain to sex but Bloodhounds complete apparent disregard for his comfort was something entirely new. Just thinking about it and what he wanted from the hunter made his blood pump faster and left him uncomfortably hard. It embarrassed him at first and he’d willed it away but this time it demanded his full attention. 

Ignoring disgusted screams of anger from what small part of him felt shame, Elliot moved over to his bed and laid down on the soft sheets. He thought about Bloodhound and what he wanted. About how he wished they’d come to him and gently press up against him, removing their mask to kiss him deeply. He wanted to taste them again but kneeling on his own floor and kissing along their thighs trying to elicit soft sighs or moans. In his mind they took off their goggles so he could see their face before they nipped at his neck and reached a hand down to run their fingers along in measured strokes. He could only imagine his hand was theirs, soft skin teasing the head of his cock and brushing against his balls with feather light touches. Or even better, their full lips wrapped around it and their tongue licking long stripes up and down the shaft to tease him and edge him further. 

“Aaaah,” moaned Elliot as he slowly slid his hand up and down with his fantasy still playing in his head. The open curtains let in the moonlight from the window that lead to the balcony but it barely penetrated the thick darkness in the room. The dark made it easier to picture them there and easier still to turn his hands into Bloodhound pressing their cock against his asshole and slowly entering him like they’d done in the ring. But this time they left burning trails up his chest where they ran their fingers over his nipples and down to his hips. They dug into his hips slightly with their nails to get a grip as their thrusts became more insistent and went deep enough that Elliot worried they’d be too big for them to fuck without it hurting and making him feel like he was being split open. He imagined them bending over to kiss him while they rocked against him, panting against his mouth and sighing in harmony with him. Or that they’d suck claiming marks into his neck instead of leaving him with the horrible scar that marred his flesh. 

Elliot worked his fingers deeper though he wished the hunter was here to fuck him properly and to place a hand under his back as he arched it, getting closer and closer to the edge. The heat of their body, the smell of their sweat mixed with their voice calling out his name and telling Elliot how good he felt or how he looked so beautiful when his face was twisted up in cries of pleasure. His name would sound divine when they’d moan it against his neck and whisper it in his ears when they’d kiss his earlobes and laugh when he shuddered. Their nails sunk deeper into his skin and small puddles of blood pooled in the crescent shapes left by the nails. Elliot ran his tongue over the cut on his lip where they’d split it with their teeth and remembered how good they’d looked with his blood on their lips and on their chin, how he’d tasted it when they kissed him and how they shared it. He squeezed harder and saw Bloodhound’s face when they came deep inside him and he followed suit with a small cry and felt his muscles tense. He raised his hips off the bed as he came and gasped when pain flared up from his ribs and brought him back from the fantasy. He took a moment to catch his breath and push down the pain as he came down from the high and stared up at the ceiling. 

He knew Bloodhound wouldn’t be so gentle and so careful but he could dream about what their first encounter should have been like in another world. The disgusted voice in his head came through again as he stood up and wiped the cum off his chest with an old shirt laying on the ground. He shook it off and threw the shirt aside to head towards the bathroom, when a creak from outside startled him and made his blood run cold. Slowly, he turned his head to see the sliding door to the balcony had been opened slightly, but there was no one present or watching from the balcony with lustful eyes. It hadn’t been open before, and he didn’t know how someone could get up there since he was on the third floor.

_ Nothing human could, but since when are they human? _

Elliot shivered and went to close the door. It should have slid easily and locked with a loud clunk as the bolt slid, but the door caught and wouldn’t move. He bent down to clear the obstruction, and to his horror pulled a long, black feather from the door jam. He dropped it like it had burned him and slammed the door shut, yanking the curtains shut and letting his heart slow. 

_ There was no way they were here, it was probably just a bird with a nest nearby. They couldn’t have gotten up here without me knowing. _

Elliot said the words to himself but they provided no comfort and rang hollow. He didn’t know what Bloodhound was capable of, but he had a suspicion and a feeling in his heart he’d find out soon enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy. So yeah this wasn't anywhere near the other two in terms of sheer violence because I wanted Mirage to be thinking about everything and have a bit of pining for Bloodhound. The next one is going to be a doozy involving dark caves, fire, and being chased. Maybe a bit of improper cauterization and fingers in wounds whomst knows but keep your peepers peeled. 
> 
> SO I imagine Elliot has a bit of a praise kink because look at that boy of course he does. Also a blood kink which is still gonna be in the story. 
> 
> Sorry if this wasn't as brutal, but I'm really sick atm and didn't want to write like, skull fucking when I'm really nauseous. The next one will be longer so that'll make up for it I promise :D 
> 
> I might try keep this at a weekly schedule with maybe two posted if I feel inspired to give him a break and mess up Octane like I mentioned last part.


End file.
